


Night Troubles

by Lorein_nur



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bad Luck, Gen, Matt help him, Peter keeps messing up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-21 15:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorein_nur/pseuds/Lorein_nur
Summary: Peter made an unwanted detour and end's up at Hell's Kitchen, from there his night just goes from bad to worse until a friendship is made clear.Or: Peter is a trouble magnet and Matt just want's to help.





	1. Party Crasher

Normally getting from one side of New York to the other was no trouble at all, I mean for one there were busses, taxis, the sub, but really when you can just swing from building to building well...the need to carry spare change became mute. However, one Peter Parker was more than desperate to get back home. Here were the facts; he was stranded in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen at the ungodly hour of 3:40 am. He was at the moment penniless, and he was looking like a lost 15-year-old, and smelling like last Tuesday's leftovers, it was Friday.

One would debate that he’s Spider-Man, so he should just swing away, the problem was that his wrist holsters were at the moment out of the question. Yes, he did have them with him, no he could not use them because they were broken. That tends to happen when you fall from a three-story building mid-flight because you were being shot at from behind and had to do a hasty mid-air role in order to not end up dead. Add momentum, velocity and poorly placed hands to that crazy maneuver and you end up with broken wrist holsters, a badly bruised back and a grazed shoulder blade.

Now one would argue, Peter is a 15-year-old tech geek he has to have a cell phone on him. Well, you're right! Too bad the battery died. So really he’s screwed save for the quick costume change, courtesy of the building's communal dumpster. Ratty hoodie and teal colored sweatpants in place Peter was just another Joe in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen. Shame really that Peter was in this situation, considering that Spider-Man had been having a great night. But it’d all gone to hell the moment he crossed the Devil himself while on parole.

 

See Peter hadn’t meant to cross over to another Vigilante's territory, that had sort of just happened. Spider-Man was going through another midnight car chase, he’d followed the guy without really paying attention to the signs and by the time he was done and the robbers were web'd up, well, a code had been broken. Sure he’d made an attempt to swing away and had gotten a few rooftops far when the infamous Devil had made his appearance, Peter like any other rational 15-year-old boy who found himself in trouble booked it. Didn’t even try to talk it out. If he’d stayed he would have just gotten the equivalent of a slap on the wrist because Matt well, he knew Pete, or at least he knew he was just a kid.

But no, Petey swung, again not really paying attention and ended up landing on an old bank’s rooftop. Surprise, surprise trouble was brewing up inside, as in drug dealers who were not pleased when their operation was interrupted by NY’s equally loved and hated spider child falling through the buildings unstable rooftop and landing along with all the rubble of the collapse on top of the neatly stacked cocaine. And they were furious when it went every which way. Peter in his ever recognizable Spider-Man suit sat poised atop all the rubble having managed some fancy flips to avoid being squashed.

“H-hey guy’s, sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to crash the party? He-he…”

As to be expected, gunfire roared.

 


	2. Exit to the Left

Matt

3:35 AM

Shit.

He hadn’t meant to send the kid running, honest he hadn’t, not like last time anyway. Hell, he’d known the second Spider-Man had crossed over, the screech of tires and the smell of burnt road accompanied by the very distinguishable shwip! of web shooters had been a dead giveaway. Again this time around he’d just wanted to talk and see if he could convince NY’s Spidey to postpone the whole being a vigilante until he was older.

Yeah, that’s right, he knew NY’s #1 bug themed vigilante was a kid, hell just by voice alone he could tell he couldn’t be older than 15, and really that was a scary reality, that the next generation of supers was starting out so- so young. What the hell was happening to the world? So again, he’d been after a talk, not a persecution. Which is exactly what he got.

 

3:37 AM

He’d barely stuck another improvised landing when the sound of gunfire disturbed the otherwise silence of the chilly night. That, and the sound of a building's roof giving way. Having by this point in the game enough experience to realize that was the direction he had to head to, well, he did just that. He ran, he jumped, he landed heavily on his feet, improvised landings and kept at it, for a solid minute. Once he reached the place of origin of that seemingly never ending cacophony of bullets being loose by trigger happy idiots it took him all but a second to be bombarded with the sharp scent of cocaine.

 

He didn’t even pause to think about what he was about to due. He just jumped. He jumped straight into the freight, into the figurative mouth of the wolf and did what he did best; he let hell reign.

 

Pete

Fudge. _Fudge._ **_Fudge with nuts on top!_ ** Not cool, not cool _at all._ Why couldn’t he have one night, just one normal crime fighting, but kicking, life saving night where everything went smoothly?! Like seriously it was bad enough he had crossed over, to another heroes territory,  while in _suit_ and gotten caught. But being literally fired upon after unwillingly, that's right,   _unwillingly_ busting a drug deal. Like really universe? Was it necessary to take it _that_ far?

And now to make matter worse, not only had the Devil himself barged in, but in all the confusion he’d of all things bailed. Yep, that’s right, his senses had been way overused, bombarded and _attacked_ for one night thank you very much! The worrying, the running, the dodging, the gun firing! And-and oh! How could he almost forget, nearly having another building falling atop him and burying him, _alive_. Ok so maybe, but _just_ maybe the last one was an exaggeration, but still! Him and falling concrete were big, _big_ no-no’s.

So yeah, that night’s conclusion, the universe hated him.


End file.
